


Four Times They Misunderheard Him + One Time They Knew Better

by epithetta



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 08:03:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epithetta/pseuds/epithetta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tin! Tin!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Times They Misunderheard Him + One Time They Knew Better

**Author's Note:**

> Written utilising the whoverse_las prompt 1.1: Miscommunication. I know a bunch of people are editing theirs, but I don't do that with mine. So here it is, warts and all.

She doesn't listen to him. He doesn't know why he should be surprised, but he always is. Well, not always. Jack listens to him. Sort of. That's not reassuring, actually, he realises when he watches her skip along the surf. 

"Does she know that seaweed is sentient?" Jack asks, standing next to him, hands in pockets. 

There's a scream, and Rose's arms flail as her legs go out from under her.

"Nope," he grunts as they both take off at a dead run.

***

He catches Jack using it to pick up Beltz when they stop for spare parts.

"Oh yeah, see, just a few more modifications and I'll be fully certified," Jack's saying, holding out the paper for their little purple eyestalks to admire. "It's gorge, isn't it?"

"Jaaaaaaaaack," he says loudly, watching with some amusement as Jack flips the small leather wallet closed and tucks it into his palm. Con man, right. "What have I told you about missing your medication times?"

"Is this one sick?" the rather attractive positive Beltz asks. His negative partner and neutral spouse blink their eyestalks at Jack and back to him. 

He smiles. "Only in the head." He knocks his own skull with two knuckles. "Very ill. Delusional. Can't go anywhere with him." Jack opens his mouth to protest when he yanks his elbow. "You have to stop wandering off like this. Thanks for finding him. He's a real scamp. Have to dash. Bye!"

They're three stalls away and Rose is still haggling with the fruit seller when he reaches for Jack's back pocket and pulls the psychic paper out, flipping the billfold in two fingers. "I have told you. _This_ is not yours. And if you ever make it yours again, I will show you how I can impersonate a Judoon investigator with it. Do you understand?"

Jack nods mutely and starts to say something when Rose waves at them, her hands full of tangoes. That's right, they're going to make whiskey foxtrots with them after dinner, courtesy of Jack. "Don't even," he mutters under his breath.

Jack doesn't even.

***

He unlocks the prison door, and Jack dashes out, carrying Rose on his back. Her swollen ankle is bandaged in his shirt, and they run out into the cold full speed. The TARDIS is a blue speck in the snow, growing larger with every step, until even he feels as if his lungs are going to burst with the cold and the running; they tumble in, falling on the grating of the console room.

He can't bring himself to say anything until he's fetched blankets for them. Jack hands his off to Rose, whose lips are chattering, but the Doctor rolls his eyes when she tries to force hers on Jack. They settle for trying to bundle each other up at the same time. 

"How many times do I have to tell you," he grits through his teeth as Rose swaths Jack in the blanket, "'To Serve Man' is a cookbook!"

***

"Jack Harkness is a menace," he says to Rose as they saw at the vines. 

"Hey, sitting right here!"

"Sorry, thought you were deaf," he chirps and cuts through one vine. " _Wished_ you were deaf, more like."

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." 

***

The fall has taken a great deal of fight out of him, and he isn't happy with the way the whole thing turned out. Rose's burns and Jack's cut face remind him why he should know better than to take humans as companions, or that if he does, he should be more careful.

He stands in the showers and nurses the bruises that tattoo the left side of his body—he'd absorbed most of the impact, thankfully, but it hadn't been without price. He'd be walking funny for days, at least. Weeks, maybe. 

There is a soft click as someone opens the door to the stall and Jack pokes his head in, followed by his shoulder and pretty much the rest of him. Rose's face is visible through the steam billowing out into the rest of the room. 

He doesn't bother to cover himself, even if he cared he's too tired. "What are you doing?" he asks. Jack glances at Rose, who hands him the sponge, and he lifts it to the dispenser, dousing it with soap. 

Rose lets the corner of her mouth quirk in a secret smile, he loves that smile, and when she slips in between the wall and the door into the room she'd not wearing anything either. He's about to say something, but Jack touches his bruised skin with the sponge, and just that makes him flinch. He's so surprised that he staggers. 

"You're a mess," she says, matter-of-factly.

"Oh I'm fine," he says, then grunts when Jack presses into his hip with the sponge. "I will be fine. Just a little fall."

"I told you it was a steep hill, didn't I?" Jack mumbles behind his back. Rose steps under the spray and closes her eyes, soaking her hair. When it's all wetted down, her eyes are bigger, her face looks younger. Scandalous. The burns on her shoulders are less red and more pink, and that's a welcome thing. 

"You said it was a little climb," he grumbles. "That was not a little climb." He winces again when Jack presses lightly into his back, and he can feel parts of the man are hard and warm. In front of him, Rose shakes her head and lays a soft kiss on his chest. He can't bring himself to push her away, not when it hurts so much now to do it. 

"Honestly," Rose murmurs into his shoulder while her fingers run along the unbruised side of him. "You never listen. Does he, Jack?"

He can feel Jack's lips press a kiss on the nape of his neck. "Never."

He'd argue, but he isn't really paying attention at the moment.

END


End file.
